Not Even a Mouse
by International08
Summary: She's the only one awake now, the only one keeping watch over her family.
1. Chapter 1

Lights twinkle down at her, illuminating the small spaces she's found between brightly wrapped boxes with shiny, twisted ribbons and hanging tags. She barely fits — it's so crowded beneath the green branches. But she likes it that way. Cozy. Warm.

She's the only one awake now, the only one keeping watch over her family.

The little ones went to sleep ages ago, pushing small fists against tired eyes and letting out such plaintive sounds.

But there was talking and shaking of heads, and they finally trooped away.

The others stayed up a while longer, fiddling around with boxes and strings and some gleaming contraption that gave off a high pitched noise when the broad one squeezed a small black part. It startled her and she jumped straight up in the air and the broad one laughed and laughed and laughed while she skittered across the smooth floor and cowered beneath the couch.

But the long-haired one picked her up and cuddled her close, whispered soft sounds into her ears. Made everything okay again. Made her purr in contentment.

Then they too went to bed, and now she's alone, a still sentinel on this silent night.

Her ears pivot in a slow circle, listening closely for any small sound.

But there's nothing.

And for Minnie, safely tucked beneath the glow of the Christmas tree, all is calm; all is bright.

* * *

Author's note: I intended to post this yesterday, to mark one year since I introduced Minnie. Sadly, school got in the way. And will continue to get in the way for another week or so. But keep your eyes open...more will be on the way soon.

As always, thank you all for the love you've shown Minnie and me. I continue to be grateful and astounded by your responses.

Love,

Joy


	2. Chapter 2

He sneaks out before she wakes up. Before any of them wake up. And yes, it's four-thirty in the morning, but he knows they'll be up soon. By five. Six at the latest.

As much as he loved having a little girl who depended on him for everything, he was secretly glad when she reached the age that meant she wanted to sleep in, even on Christmas morning. When he got to rouse Alexis from her bed, rather than waking, startled, to find her bouncing on his chest at five-thirty a.m.

Lilian and James are no different than Alexis was at that age, and of course, Kate's an early riser too, despite the fact that they were up until late last night putting together that bike. Late, he admits, mostly because he wouldn't look at the directions.

Still, he's a little proud of himself for slipping unnoticed from beneath the arm his detective had slung haphazardly over his chest sometime in the night. Proud of himself for not making a sound as he dressed in the dark, pulling on yesterday's jeans and a soft flannel shirt, socks and slip-on shoes.

A quiet "purrrt?" greets him as he pads stealthily through the living room, and he glances down, finds green eyes watching him sleepily from between a pair of matching boxes which he's fairly certain hold matching laser tag sets for his two youngest offspring.

"Hey you," he murmurs, dropping to one knee to ruffle silky gray fur and earning a gentle head butt to his palm.

The cat stretches lazily, her body long and sinuous for a moment before it seems to contract, and then she winds around his leg, rubbing her cheek against the cuff of his jeans and purring.

"Yeah, yeah," he whispers, his fingers sliding down to scratch the underside of Minnie's chin. "You've marked me. I get it."

She blinks up at him, and he wonders, for just a moment, if what he's about to do is really a good idea.

But the deed's been done. He signed the papers yesterday, and the place is closed today, so even if he regrets this — even if Kate is furious with him for not consulting with her — they'll have to live with his decision for at least today.

Really, though, he thinks it's time.

"Okay, sweet girl," he says after a long moment of smoothing his hand from the top of Minnie's head, down her back, and all the way up to the tip of her proud, inquiring tail. "I'll be back soon."

He gets to his feet slowly, his knees creaking a bit, and strides quickly and quietly across to the loft. Castle glances behind him as opens the front door, listens for the patter of little feet that shouldn't be out of bed, for the sleepy sigh of a detective waking to not quite cool sheets. But all is still and silent.

Minnie has followed him, and he sticks out one foot to nudge her away if she tries to escape, but she only sits back on her haunches and regards him with something of an accusatory look.

"It'll be fine," he says, not quite knowing why he feels the need to justify himself to the cat. "Really."

He slips out and shuts the door carefully behind himself, takes the stairs down, just in case the elevator might ding too loudly.

Eduardo is already on duty, and the man grins when he sees the writer approaching. "Merry Christmas, Mr. Castle."

"Merry Christmas, Eduardo," Castle replies, and he returns the smile, clapping a hand on the other man's shoulder. "Now, I believe you're holding something for me?"


	3. Chapter 3

She wakes to the sound of hissing and muffled curses.

By the time Kate makes it into the living room, dressed at least in pajamas, Castle is sitting on the couch, his thumb in his mouth and angry red — but not bleeding — scratches on the back of his hand.

"Aren't you a little old to be sucking your thumb there, stud?" she asks, dropping gracelessly into the seat next to him and reaching toward him with both hands.

He glares at her, but softens when she pulls his hand toward her chest, her fingers gentle as she examines the wounds.

"What did you do?" she asks once she's pressed her lips to the broad knuckle of his thumb, knowing that a kiss to make it all better works on more than just their children.

He furrows his eyebrows. "Why do you assume I did anything?"

She resists the urge to roll her eyes at him. Because it's Christmas.

"Hello," she says, chuckling. "Have you met my cat? She adores you. I've been on the receiving end of Minnie's wrath far more times than you have."

He shrugs, can't deny it, she knows. Somehow when she's the one who has to take the cat to the vet or put her in the carrier, it's a inevitably bloody skirmish. Minerva practically walks into the carrier with no encouragement when Castle's in charge.

The cat in question appears at that moment, leaping onto the detective's lap and worming her way into a non-existent space between her humans' thighs and bumping her head against Castle's forearm.

"See?" Kate says, shaking her head. "She scratched you to bits a few minutes ago and now here she is wanting you to pet her."

"Well, actually," the writer says. "It wasn't-"

But there's a rustle from the direction of the Christmas tree just then and Kate's head whips around just as Castle finishes his sentence with "her."

The detective stares at the tree for a moment, but there's no more noise. She turns back to her husband and the cat, one looking sheepish and the other merely inquisitive.

Another rustle. She looks at the tree again. A bell jingles from somewhere near the top.

"What was that?" she asks.

"An angel just got its wings?" the writer says hopefully.

She swivels in her seat, narrows her eyes at the man still cradling his scratched hand. "Richard Castle. What did you do?"


	4. Chapter 4

"It's Christmas!"

He's never been so glad to hear those words, to hear that clear treble and the thundering of small feet tramping down the stairs. Saved from further interrogation by his children.

He stands from the couch, jostling Minnie out of the space between his thigh and Kate's, earning himself an indignant meow. But in the next instant the cat and his wife are both nearly forgotten, his arms full of squirming boy and his legs wrapped up by a grinning girl.

"Merry Christmas," he murmurs into his son's ear, the boy stilling in his tight embrace.

"Merry Christmas, Daddy," James says softly, and then Castle feels a warm hand sliding under the back of his flannel shirt, knows Kate is there behind him. "Merry Christmas, Momma."

Her fingers feather against his ear briefly on the way to run her fingers through their son's dark curls. "Merry Christmas, sweet boy."

The detective steps around him and her arms slip between his chest and the small body clinging to him, tugging the boy out of his father's grasp and freeing him to reach down for his little girl. His littler girl.

Lilian comes willingly, her arms twining around his neck, her soft cheek gliding against his own, her tiny lips pressing a smacking kiss to the hinge of his jaw.

He hugs her tighter, has to close his eyes to will back the sudden rush of happy tears, so thankful for this family they've become.

"Merry Christmas, baby girl," he whispers, his nose nudging into her messy hair, stretching his fingers until his hand spans her whole back.

"Merry Christmas," she returns quietly, her face pressed into his shoulder.

He hears a click and the turning of a key, opens his eyes just in time to see Alexis and his mother stumbling into the loft, their arms tangled as they laugh together.

"Darlings!" Martha calls, her hands thrown up in the air as Alexis turns back to catch her husband's elbow and drag him in behind them, his arms laden with brightly wrapped boxes.

Kate is reaching for Lilian before he has a chance to set her down, and he barely hears the exchanged greetings between his wife and his younger daughter as he steps past them to welcome the rest of his family.

Bending slightly so she can reach his neck, Castle wraps his mother in a gentle hug, kissing her on the cheek soundly.

And then Alexis is there, rising up on tiptoes to bury her nose in his neck, and he bands his arms around her waist, lifts her up in a bear hug, spins her around, her giddy laughter ringing through the loft.

"Hey Dad," she says breathlessly when he sets her down. "Merry Christmas."

He just grins. "Merry Christmas to you. You're here early."

"We figured they'd be up early," a warm baritone says, and Castle turns to find Drew standing next to a pile of presents and holding out a still gloved hand.

Castle laughs. "You were right."

He bypasses the younger man's offered handshake, going straight for a warm hug. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Castle," Drew says as the two men step apart.

The writer gives him a stern glare. "We've been over this, Drew. It's Rick. Or, you know, Dad."

His face reddening slightly, the younger man grins, nods. "Yes, sir."

Castle shakes his head and beckons them all toward the living room, toward his smiling wife, toward the children who have already escaped their mother's grasp, their grandmother's effusive greeting, and are running straight at their sister and brother-in-law.

Kate catches his eye, her gaze tender, her mouth set in a gentle curve as the two of them survey their little family.

Minnie, not to be left out, winds her way around rapidly moving legs, rubbing up against ankles until Alexis finally picks her up.

Perfect. Everyone is here. Everything is perfect. He couldn't ask for anything more.

And then he hears it.

A rustle. A yelp.

The tinkling of broken glass as a snowman-shaped ornament shatters on the hardwood floor.

Then Drew's voice rising over the din as the young man plucks a tiny calico kitten from the branches of the Christmas tree.

"And who is this?"


	5. Chapter 5

Castle turns to her slowly, his shoulders hunched, almost around his ears, his eyes pleading. Is his lip quivering?

Oh dear lord, he's cute.

She wants to be at least mildly upset with him, because really, he should have talked to her at a bare minimum, not just gone off and gotten another cat without asking her, without discussing the logistics.

But she can't be mad. Not when he looks like that. Not when she glances at their kids and their hopeful faces, not when Drew is cradling the little thing in his big hands, holding it so Alexis can scratch it behind the ears.

"Well," the detective finally says. "What's its name?"

Castle's grin breaks free, lighting up the whole room with his joy. He turns toward Drew and reaches out, the younger man willingly passing over the kitten.

Holding it on its back like a baby, Castle cradles the tiny cat in one arm, his other hand pressed tight against a fuzzy belly. The little thing is purring loudly, its eyes closed and something like a contented smile adorning the small furry face.

"Her name," the writer says quietly. "It's a girl."

Quite unexpectedly, Kate's heart tumbles in her chest, her eyes lifting away from the kitten to meet her husband's gaze, his soft smile changing as she stares at him, nostalgia and something deeper infusing his look. She knows they're both remembering the last time he said those words, the unbelievable joy that has shaped their lives since that day.

"Her name, then," Kate affirms, reaching forward to rest her hand on top of Castle's, her index finger sliding up to stroke along a whiskered cheek that leans into the touch.

She's not quite a calico, now that the detective gets a closer look at her. There are splotches of orange on her, yes, but mostly she's got a tabby pattern — light brown and black — on her back, her underside and paws white, as if she's wearing socks. Her nose looks like like someone brushed black paint over its pink surface, but missed a spot. She's mismatched. And adorable.

"The woman at the shelter said they'd called her Hannah," Castle says. "But if we want to name her something else-"

"Hannah," Kate repeats, and the kitten's eyes open, blinking greenish gray as she yawns widely. "Hannah it is."

"Hannah Abbott was a Hufflepuff," Lilian pipes up. "And she was in Dumbledore's Army. So it keeps with the theme."

Castle laughs, and Kate looks from her daughter toward Alexis and Drew, finds them both grinning.

The detective leans down and tugs her daughter close. "Indeed it does, baby. Indeed it does."

* * *

_A/N: This chapter is especially for my dear Kelli, whose friendship and baking skills make life far away from home so much better, and whose cat is, in fact, Hannah. Love you, my darling._


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